


I'll Never Let You Go Again

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-28
Updated: 2003-10-28
Packaged: 2019-04-27 18:31:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14431608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: A Mulder POV Vignette. A Sleepless Mulder agonizes after Scully's abduction.





	I'll Never Let You Go Again

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

Title: I'll Never Let Go of You Again.  
Author: Pattie  
Rated: PG  
Spoilers: Duane Barry, Ascension.  
Categorization: Mulder/Scully friendship, X-File,Mulder POV Summary: In the middle of a sleepless night, guilt-ridden Mulder agonizes over Scully's disappearance.   
Archive: Gossamer and any other nice home. I'll bring the tea, if you let me visit.  
Disclaimer: I don't own them; CC, 1013 and Fox do. I make no money from this, and I mean no copyright infringement. If I DID own the characters, I would have given Scully her own desk a long time ago. 

It's true what they say: There's no rest for the wicked. As I lay here on this excuse for a couch that I sleep on, I feel I have led you down a deadly path. Nights now are long, restless and meaningless. 

My epitaph may as well read: "Fox Mulder led an innocent female F.B.I. Agent to her death." There is no solace in your mother's reassurances, or the sight of your cross when I look at it to find some focus, some hope. Sleep is a word in the dictionary, a thing other people do at night to regenerate themselves. 

Over and over again, I go through the night Duane Barry drove you to your death or abduction. I don't really know for sure. What was I doing that was so damn important I couldn't get to you in time? You believed you were being followed. You called. Where was I? I was jogging. Jogging. Now, I run to find you. I run away from my past, my present and my future because things are so damn hard to face. So damn painful. 

I couldn't save you and I couldn't save Samantha. And if I do find either one of you, will I be forgiven? I don't know. There's a lot of doubt in my mind. My quest fueled my spirit; gave me a sense of purpose. Now, a quest to find you keeps me going more than anything else. When I find you, what will I see? 

My desperate need to find the Truth, whatever that may be, has a price to it. I know that. I've been warned about it. I didn't listen. Damn me! 

My search for other truths in this world has led you into dangerous journeys. A nice walk in the woods turned you into mite munchies. The Arctic Volcano was a good example of my disregard for the real world. Larva burrowing into animals and people driving them mad. I had to see people sprout spores from their necks, exposing you to the distinct possibility you'd be the next victim. Chalk another one up for Spooky, advocate of the paranormal. 

Now where are you? If you are alive, I pray you're not suffering. If... no I won't think about it. If you could hear my silent pleas night after night, day after day, would you come back? I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. 

I played around with a female involved with vampires! Yes, she saw that I was torn, worn, tired and worried, searching for you. I was weak. I needed comfort, I guess. And I feel so empty still. I feel as though my heart has been torn out. Last night, I wondered if I had ever had one. Psychotic ramblings of a sleep-deprived U.F.O. chaser. Good title for my autobiography, right, Scully? 

I look at your file. Dana Scully has a place in the X-Files. But not in the file cabinet. Beside me at work. So real, so pragmatic, so grounded. The perfect partner for a paranoid, aliens-theory-spouting, selfish bum. Your glasses remind me of your clarity of vision. Not eye vision, but well, that which can be understood as logical, I guess. Your cross reminds me you have a faith, hope, promise. Such a promising life may still be ahead of you. I must think positively. You ARE hope. Young, determined and brilliant, with a glow to you. 

When I find you, and I will find you, I want you alive. I want to tell you how much I value our partnership, our friendship, your presence in my life. But I can't do that if I don't find you. I would give anything to take your place if it meant you were safe and sound in your own home this second. 

Tomorrow, I put on the suit, grab my bag and head out to chase down another lead, perhaps on another road to another dead end But perhaps not a dead end road this time. 

When I find you, yes, when, I will sleep. Until then, as I am under no compunction to feel good about myself, there is no rest for the wicked. 

How did I let go of you? I'll never let go of you again. I promise. 

Pattie   
  


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